The X-Files: Dana

 From netnews.upenn.edu!msunews!agate!uclink.berkeley.edu!madge Fri Feb  3 17:08:32 1995

Path: netnews.upenn.edu!msunews!agate!uclink.berkeley.edu!madge

From: madge@uclink.berkeley.edu (Peggy Mei-Ling Li)

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: DANA (1/3)

Date: 3 Feb 1995 07:16:01 GMT

Organization: University of California, Berkeley

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Ugg.  Looks like to read this without the annoying m's you have to save 

the file and read it off the newsfeed.  Sorry about this:

This is not a

formula 

X-File story.  It is an 

of the hard-boiled detective.  Half in fun, 

half in homage to the greats like Hammett and 

Chandler, just imagine the noirest of the 

noir and San Francisco in the '20's...I draw 

heavily from the Pilot episode and Hammett's 

novel The Continental Op.  Please send any 

comments to:

madge@uclink.berkeley.edu

Hope you enjoy it!

<all usual disclaimers here>

DANA - Part I  by Peggy Li. Feb. 1, 1995

The rain rapped incessantly against the 

windowpane but even the wet couldn't spoil my 

mood.  I had just finished a tough caper and 

had settled down at my desk for the reward of 

a bologna sandwich.  A cup of tepid, gritty 

coffee sat at my elbow to help wash it down.   

I allowed myself this moment with the perhaps 

foolish notion that Keppo and his boys had 

had enough of tangling with the coppers 

downtown...all thanks to me.  Yeah, this 

night of all nights I wasn't looking for any 

trouble.  And then trouble walked through my 

door.

A bundle of soggy overcoat let a cold 

wash of air through my doorway then shut the 

door firmly behind.  The person's head was 

obscured by a large floppy felt hat but the 

dainty hands and ankles alerted me to the 

fact that my visitor was female.  I took my 

feet off the desktop and waited for her to 

speak.

She didn't say a word.  Her black 

leather-gloved hands began to peel the rain-

gear from her person and what was found 

inside was, well, not to get too steamed up 

about the details, was nice.

She was neither fat nor thin, anywhere 

between twenty and thirty, and barely over 

five feet tall.  She wore a gray silk dress 

that shaped where her body shaped it.  After 

hanging her coat and scarf on the stand near 

the door, the last trappings of her get-up, 

the hat, was removed with a grace that hinted 

more at precise efficiency than grand 

flourish.  The hair that tumbled free from 

the confines of the headgear were locks of 

fiery red, shoulder length.  Her face was 

round, her mouth a pucker of crimson that 

almost made this hardened detective blush, 

but that wasn't the worst of it.  My visitor 

turned her gaze upon me while brushing stray 

drops of rain off the top of her hat- her 

eyes were a smoky gray, the color of a 

midnight fog over the bay.  Strange eyes, 

that seemed to shift color with her every 

movement.  As she walked slowly toward me, 

into and out of the feeble light my desk lamp 

threw into the room, I could swear the 

woman's eyes changed from gray to blue to 

green in a matter of seconds, finally 

settling back to gray.  Those eyes burned 

with an intelligence and intensity that made 

my gun hand twitch.  I'll stick with the 

adjective I chose before.  She was nice.

"Mister...?"  She glanced down at the 

nameplate on my desk, but I beat her to the 

punch.

"Who sent you?"  I demanded.  The girl's 

eyes widened and narrowed and then looked 

from the nameplate to my face.

"Is that your name or is your stuffed 

animal at the cleaners this evening?"

Her quip surprised me but my gun-hand 

relaxed a fraction- she didn't seem to be 

Keppo's type.  Too classy.  "And you are?" I 

drawled in return, pushing the nameplate 

face-down and out of the way.

"Dana Scully," she stuck out a gloved 

hand and glanced down for an instant at my 

right, hidden in the shadows under the desk.  

It was resting comfortably near an automatic 

I kept stored there for emergencies.  As a 

show of good faith I took her hand and shook 

it, then kept my hand on the desktop and away 

from my gun.  Something about this girl was 

very familiar.

"My father is Captain William Scully," 

she added helpfully, sliding into the seat 

next to my desk.

"Ah," I replied, as if that name meant 

something to me. "Sorry about my manners 

before, Scully, it's just that...I had the 

feeling you were sent here to spy on me."

Ms. Scully frowned slightly at that, her 

full lips quirking up at a corner.  "I've 

been told that you were good.  I'm looking 

forward to working with you."  Her slightly 

husky voice was deceptively neutral.

"Isn't it nice to suddenly be so highly 

regarded," I replied with an ingratiating 

grin.  Scully simply laced her fingers 

together in front of her at my sarcasm.

"I *do* have a case for you, you know.  

It's very important to me and my family, so 

if you don't want to help me- or can't help 

me- then I will take my story elsewhere."  

Suddenly it clicked for me where I had seen 

this woman before.

"I've read your story.  In the papers."

"And?"

"I'm interested.  You, Dana Scully, made 

a splash two  weeks ago in the society pages- 

just returned from schooling in Virginia..."

"Will you help me?"  she interrupted.

"Sure."

Scully reached into a small black 

handbag that materialized into her lap out of 

nowhere and pulled out a photograph.  Handing 

it to me, she began her story.

"This is my sister, Melissa.  She'd 

always been the wild one in my family, liked 

to go to parties, liked to get into new and 

strange things.  Our parents let her do what 

she liked because she was the oldest 

daughter.  They kept an eye on her,  however, 

to make sure nothing...bad ever happened."

I looked at the photograph- it was of 

Dana and Melissa Scully standing on a pier, a 

battleship moored in the background.  She was 

of same height but lighter build than her 

sister- and like her sister, she was nice.

"Now something has?"  I asked, keeping 

the picture in my hand.  Scully nodded.

"We haven't heard from her since last 

week.  She went to a party with Vince and 

didn't return."

"You should go to the police about 

this."

"That's what I told my parents.  It 

wasn't unusual for Melissa to go off and 

spend a night or two at a friends without 

telling us, but...my parents were going to 

the police when..."  Scully pulled a piece of 

paper from her purse, "this came in today's 

post."

I took the plain slip of paper from her 

hand.  The note was written in an angular, 

sloping scrawl, an unsteady hand, and read:

I've seen the bright light and now I 

must follow!  Vince leads me to the stars-  

Farewell, Melissa.

"It's her writing."

"This all sounds pretty kooky to me,"  I 

growled, tossing the note back to Scully.  

"Who's this Vince character?  Boyfriend?"

Scully's eyes hardened and she glared at 

me.  "Not exactly...Melissa had been spending 

a lot of time with Vince Drake."  Dana Scully 

sat silent for a beat, then began to finger 

the voodoo doll I had sitting on my desk- a 

memento from a previous case.  When she 

looked up at me her eyes were sharp.  "Have 

you heard of him?"

I had.  But I didn't think she knew what 

I knew about Drake.  So I played dumb.  "The 

bootlegger?  Yeah, I've heard of him."

"I thought you would,"  Scully tossed 

back, and I wondered if she did know more.  

But more importantly, I wondered what her 

beef about me was, and said so.

"If you think so little of me Miss 

Scully, then why haven't you just taken your 

story to the police?"  I hazarded a guess, 

"Why defy your parents' wishes?"

Scully's gray eyes shot icicles.  "Like 

I said before, I look forward to working with 

you.  Even though you have a reputation 

for...the unconventional, I believe that you 

can help us more than the police.  I have a 

hard time believing in some of the things my 

sister believes in, but...you won't."

I must have flinched at that point, but 

if I did, Scully didn't seem to notice.

"Vincent Drake is a...persuasive man," 

she continued.  "He's probably done something 

to my sister.  Coerced her, threatened her, 

something."  Her eyes grew fearful for a 

moment and she leaned in over the desk to 

lock her eyes with mine.  "I don't like 

thinking about what that something could be."  

She moved back into her chair and her eyes 

regained their cool.  "I want to believe that 

there's a rational explanation for her 

disappearance...but I have yet to see it.  

Will you help me?"

Her gray eyes never wavered from my 

face.  I said, "That's why they put the 'eye' 

in 'private eye'."

Ms. Scully said good-night after I got 

some more information from her;  a list of 

her sister's friends and favorite hangouts.  

That list made for some interesting reading.

There were a few of the usual cons and 

thugs, minor hoodlums like Sharpy Fink and 

Big Boy Jake.  But they weren't nearly as 

numerous compared to Vince Drake and his men.

Now, when I told Scully that Drake was a 

bootlegger, that was the truth- he was one of 

the biggest in the city.  What neither of us 

voiced, however, was that Drake was also 

rumored to be the leader of a strange society 

who called themselves the Chosen.  His name 

being spilled was enough to pique my 

interest.  And when I heard that the Orchid 

Club was one of Melissa's favorite night 

spots,  I was sure that this wasn't an 

ordinary missing daughter case.  I'd run down 

the other leads, but my instinct told me that 

the Chosen were probably responsible for 

Melissa's disappearance.  And considering 

Melissa's obvious tastes in the exotic and 

unusual, I figured she'd probably gotten 

herself immersed into this cult.  They were 

supposed to hold their meetings every 

Wednesday at the Orchid.

I told Scully only that I planned to 

check out this Vince fellow and that he was 

our best lead.  We agreed to meet at the 

Orchid Club tomorrow night;  she had insisted 

that I wouldn't be able to spot these 

characters without her help.  She was 

obviously asking for excitement, but I'd be 

sure to dump her in a shady spot before any 

tussles broke out.

The next day had me ringing doorbells, 

following up on the list of names Dana Scully 

had given me.  I received plenty of no's to 

my questions so when my list reached bottom, 

I decided to stop at Mickey's.

"Frank,"  I said, catching the attention 

of the rotund bartender, "have you seen 

Blinky?"

"Sure,"  snorted Frank, "he's where he 

usually is."

I moved away with a wave of thanks, and 

headed for the storeroom in the back.

Blinky was there all right, a small 

pasty-skinned man, dozing comfortably in the 

murky darkness of the bar's cramped storage 

room.  I shook his shoulder and as he blinked 

into consciousness noticed his pupils were 

large black pits.  No wonder he stayed in the 

dark most of his time.

"Come on, you hop-head,"  I said 

roughly, pulling him to his feet.

"Whattya want?"  he said gruffly, then 

his eyes focused upon me.  "Oh sure, anything 

for you, boss."

I sat on a crate labeled "Soda Water," 

which probably contained hooch, and kept my 

informant well in sight.

"What's the word on the street, Blinky?"  

I waited patiently as Blinky tried to come up 

with the answer he thought I'd want to hear.  

I'd used him in the past as a source of 

information and found him to be fairly 

reliable.  He was a frequenter of all of the 

seedy joints in town and had a good ear for 

conversations that were none of his business.  

He also knew that correct information meant 

money to keep him supplied with his dope.  

More importantly, I knew that Blinky had been 

a runner for Drake's until his habit forced 

him to quit that work- his nerves were too 

raw.

"Well...Drake's on the move," he offered 

hopefully.

"Oh yeah?" I said, trying not to sound 

too interested in that piece of news.

"Yeah,"  Blinky replied, warming up to 

the topic.  "He's got a shipment of rum 

coming in..."  he paused and held out a hand.  

"It'll cost ya."

I pulled out a fiver and held it where 

he could see it.  "Tell me,"  I said.

Blinky licked his dry lips and, seeing I 

wouldn't give in, continued.  "It was 

supposed to come in two nights ago, but some 

dame messed up the connection.  Now it's 

comin' in tonight."  Blinky lunged for his 

pay but I held him off with the toe of my 

foot.

"What dame?"  I asked carefully.

"I dunno, some dame.  They say,"  he 

laughed nervously, "they say he's gonna use 

her for some sorta ceremony.  Come on, I've 

spilled!"

I handed him his dough and he scuttled 

out of the room to find the nearest dealer.  

I sat and pushed my brains around a bit.  If 

the dame Blinky mentioned was Melissa, and 

she probably was, then I'd have to find her 

that night.  It was Tuesday and if a ceremony 

was going to be held, then it would be for 

the Chosen the following evening.  And who 

knew what would happen then.

The Orchid was a speakeasy resting on 

the fringes of Chinatown.  When I arrived at 

eight o'clock, the place was already alive 

with beaded and bedecked patrons.  Dana 

Scully waited for me outside the entrance, 

wrapped in a long green cloak.  I stepped up 

and took her arm while her eyes moved up and 

down my scrawny frame.

"Do you think I should have worn my 

pinstripe?" I said, noticing that I was the 

only man not dressed in evening wear.  "I've 

been pounding the pavement all day Ms. 

Scully, and didn't have time to change out of 

my day-suit."

Scully smiled thinly and didn't look 

surprised.  We eased through the door and 

entered the dimly lit club as I quickly 

filled her in on my days' non-successes.  I 

discreetly kept all I had learned from Blinky 

under my hat, however.

The Orchid was a speakeasy of 

speakeasies;  smoke fogged what light was 

gleaming off the tiny stage in the center of 

the room.  Those who favored the dark had 

plenty of shadowy corners to hide in while 

they conducted their business.  I saw quite a 

few familiar faces and took note of them in 

case I had a chance to come back with, say, 

fifty armed officers.  This club was no 

playground.

Scully seemed to sense it too, and 

clutched my arm a bit tighter.

"Anyone look familiar?"  I whispered.  

She shook her head, no.  We moved to a table 

near the dance floor and took our seats.  A 

shifty-eyed blonde came up to us and asked 

sullenly, "Drinks?"

"Gin and tonic,"  Scully said, taking 

the cloak off her shoulders.  A heavy bulge 

in an inner pocket alerted me to the fact 

that Ms. Scully was packing some heat.  And 

by the weight of it, it was no nickel-plated 

popgun.

"None for me,"  I said, and the blonde 

edged away.

Scully finished arranging her cloak on 

the back of her chair and I realized what a 

bad idea it was to bring her here.  Not only 

was her silvery low-backed dress causing eyes 

to turn, but it wouldn't be hard for her red 

hair to be matched with Melissa's.  I was 

about to voice my worries when Dana signaled 

me with her eyes.

From behind the small stage a blond 

haired, square-jawed Goliath emerged.  He was 

dressed sharply in a dark suit and moved with 

self-assurance through the room.  I didn't 

let the big man's lumbering size fool me- 

there was a menacing intelligence behind 

those glittering black eyes.

"Vince,"  Scully said simply, under her 

breath.  Then before I could stop her, she 

had snagged the big man's arm.

"Vince Drake?  I'm Dana.  Dana Scully."

Vince smiled warmly as faint recognition 

registered on his broad features.  "Ah, Dana.  

How's things?"  He didn't even bother to look 

in my direction.

"I want to know where Melissa is."

"Melissa?  Haven't seen her."  The big 

man was lying, but he knew he wasn't fooling 

us.

"Dana..."  I began, trying to calm her.

"Who's this wriggler?"  Vince sneered, 

jerking a thumb in my direction.

"A friend of Ms. Scully,"  I replied, 

pushing my chair back.  I could feel the room 

shrinking and prepared myself to grab Dana's 

wrist and make for the nearest exit.  "Answer 

her question."

"Like I said, I haven't seen her."

Dana took a step closer to Vince, 

whispering so the giant had to lean down to 

hear her.

"How would you like me to tell the 

police about your upcoming transaction down 

at the pier tonight?"

Drake's face turned ugly and I reached 

for my gun.  All around I could hear the 

scraping sound of chairs being pushed to the 

wayside.  Guns blossomed in the hands of 

those around us and realized that now was not 

the time to be heroic.  Vince neatly plucked 

my automatic from it's shoulder holster and 

hefted it in his meaty paw.

"I don't think you'll be in the position 

to tell the cops anything,"  he snarled 

menacingly.  

"We'll just be on our way,"  I said 

lightly, reaching for Dana's cloak and the 

gun I knew was hidden there.  If I could take 

Drake by surprise maybe Scully and I could 

leave the place in one piece. 

Scully's eyes were wide as I eased the 

velvety fabric over her shoulders.  Not a 

person in the room budged an inch as I went 

through these motions- time seemed to stop.  

As my hand drifted over the bulge in the 

green cloak I heard Vince say, "Now."  Scully 

lunged for his arm as I tried, 

unsuccessfully, to block the fat automatic 

that came rushing toward my forehead.  I 

remember the coolness of the metal as it 

struck my skull and then everything went 

black...

to be continued

From netnews.upenn.edu!msunews!agate!uclink.berkeley.edu!madge Fri Feb 3 17:08:32 1995 Path: netnews.upenn.edu!msunews!agate!uclink.berkeley.edu!madge From: madge@uclink.berkeley.edu (Peggy Mei-Ling Li) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: DANA (2/3) Date: 3 Feb 1995 07:16:28 GMT Organization: University of California, Berkeley Lines: 414 Message-ID: <3gsl8c$r0u@agate.berkeley.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: uclink.berkeley.edu X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.2 PL2] DANA - Part II by Peggy Li, Feb. 2 1995 My vision blurred and I squinted. There was a bright light shining into my eyes from a bare bulb hanging closely overhead. The last thing I could remember was my black automatic making an imprint on my forehead... Someone was monkeying with my wounds and when I finally opened my eyes and kept them open, I was looking into Dana Scully's worried face. "Quit it," I said, pushing away her hand. "You're hurt," she said, ignoring my protest and dabbing at my head again with the corner of her cloak. "You probably have a concussion." "What are you, a doctor?" I replied, trying to prop myself into a sitting position. "As a matter of fact, I am," she answered, all seriousness. I believed her. "You hit the parquet pretty badly." "A real swan dive?" I replied, trying to ease tensions. We were inside a tiny room with funny sloping walls. "You should see me dance sometime." Scully rolled her eyes and I bumped my head as I tried to straighten up. "My brain must be sloshing back and forth inside my head," I complained as I tried to get my bearings. "That's not your head; we're on a boat," my doctor informed me. "What happened?" "After he knocked you out we were both taken to the marina and loaded onto this ship. I don't know where they're taking us." I knew. "Can you swim?" I asked. Scully looked at me strangely, then the realization about our situation began to dawn on her. "And we have you to thank for this predicament." "Me?!" "Sure, why the hell did you provoke the man? All I wanted to do tonight was case the joint and there you were, starting a brawl on his turf, using me as your padding between him and his .38!" It was no good to yell at her at this point, but I hated it when I got knocked around. She obviously had no sympathy for me, however. "Well, some help you were," she fumed. "I've never seen a man give up his gun so easily! And that's locked." I was trying to open the hatch above our heads. I didn't know what was worse- being on this joy-ride or being sewn up down in the hold with this red-headed know-it-all. At this point I wouldn't have minded being down with the fishes! "You had a gun, why didn't you use it?" I shot back. "Because I needed to know first if he had Melissa." "Well, now we know he does or he wouldn't have risked taking the both of us out here." I remembered something from the club. "How did you know about Drake's rum shipment? How much..." I didn't get to finish my questions as the hatch above our heads was opened and hands reached in and pulled us up on deck. "Come on, you lovebirds," a thin, hatchet faced man with a short crew-cut prodded us to the rail of the ship with a nasty-looking sawed off shotgun. The cool night breeze and ocean spray hit my face and my eyes could just make out through the thick fog the lights on Alcatraz. "You're making a huge mistake," Scully began, and then I felt a shove at my back and the black waters were rushing towards me. We both landed with a crash and there was an immediate chill that spread through my entire body. Kicking off my shoes, I swam over to where Scully treaded water, teeth chattering. "You okay?" I asked. "Suu-rr-e," Scully replied, lips trembling. "Just dandy." The boat had already been swallowed into the mist but to my left I could hear the bellow of Alcatraz's foghorn. Orienting myself to the sound, I tried to sound optimistic. "Keep moving. We can swim to the island." Scully did her best to nod and we both began making strokes towards the sound of the foghorn. We both knew that we could also run into the ferry lanes- or get run over by a ferry. In any case, we had nothing to lose by trying to get from where we were to somewhere better. "Is the current pulling us toward the Golden Gate?" asked Scully. "Don't waste your breath," I replied, grimly. We were being swept out of the bay and into the ocean, but I figured we'd worry about that in due course. I don't know how many minutes past- even the cold wasn't bothering me as much. In fact, all my limbs were in a pleasant state of numbness and I couldn't feel them moving anymore. I glanced behind me to see Scully beginning to lag behind. Turning around, I swam up to her and grabbed her just as her eyes began to close. "Don't," I said, struggling to hold up both our bodies in the lashing waves. "I'm so tired," Scully murmured, floating over onto her back. I let her rest for the moment, and fought to keep awake myself. Everything out there on the water was peaceful, serene. The foghorn blared again, closer this time, but I ignored it. All I wanted to do was stay floating there, quiet, cushioned in the fog. I was warm even, warmth creeping up through my limbs...I pushed Scully up to the surface of the water one more time before she began to sink again and began to settle in myself, when a spotlight glared into my eyes. "Go away," I said angrily, thrashing my hands at the oncoming lights. "Go away!" I yelled, and then for the second time that night my mind shut down and I lost consciousness... When I came to, a grizzled old ferry conductor was rubbing my ankles and saying excitedly, "We almost ran you down! What'd ya do, fall off a yacht?" I glanced around quickly and saw Dana seated next to me, cocooned in a blanket and sipping some tea. "Are you okay?" I said, noting that she looked as bad as I felt. She simply jerked her head, once, and clutched at her cup. "What ferry are we on?" I asked the conductor, shaking him off my person. "Sausalito to San Francisco. We're docking in 'Cisco in a few minutes." "Great," I said, my head beginning to throb. Once we docked, I waved off the ferry conductor's protests and hailed a taxi. I kept Scully close to my side and told her, "I'm taking you to the hospital." "No!" Scully replied, her skin still pale, "We don't have time for that. Slight case of hypothermia..." I couldn't persuade her otherwise and grudgingly told the driver to take us to my place. As the driver pulled away from the ferry building, Scully placed her head on my shoulder and promptly closed her eyes. "Let me sleep now," she said, "but make sure to wake me when we get there." My apartment was on the second floor, but when we got there I just carried Scully to my room and placed her on the couch before racing back down to pay the cab. When I returned, Scully was still out and I felt panic rising to my throat. "Hey," I said, rubbing her hands and drawing another blanket around her shoulders, "Scully...Dana. Wake up." She stirred and I hurried to the kitchen for a glass of brandy and to start a pot of coffee. When I stepped back into the living room, Scully was just beginning to sit up. "Look, I think we should take you to a hospital..." "No, I'm all right. Just a bit winded." Scully looked anything but all right, but I didn't have the energy to argue with her. I handed her the brandy which she took gratefully, and poured myself one, too. "Do you have something dry I can wear?" she asked, after the color began to come back into her cheeks. "Sure," I said, moving towards the bedroom, "Let me change in there and then I'll throw you something." Scully nodded and I ducked inside the room. After dressing quickly into a dry pair of slacks and a clean shirt, I found a blue shirt I had that was on the smallish side and a pair of soft pajama bottoms. I also grabbed a towel and moved back into the living room. Dana seemed much better; she hadn't gotten off the couch, but was going through the papers I had on my coffee table. "Is this your sister?" she asked, holding up a worn photograph. I simply handed her the stuff and said, "The bathroom is just inside the bedroom. I hope this fits." "Do you ever use your bed?" Scully asked, motioning to the pillow and blanket I always kept on my couch. "Nope," I replied, "I always sleep out here." Scully laughed, and I knew then that she was definitely feeling better. "What's so funny?" "Nothing. It just seems like something a detective would do." She picked up the clothes and stepped into the bedroom. When she re-emerged, she had a towel wrapped around her head and had found my bathrobe as well. "I want to thank you," she said, sitting back down on the couch. "What for?" I replied, pouring us both cups of hot coffee. "For saving my life." I said nothing, and handed her a cup. Dana pursed her lips and then said, "What do we do now?" I eased my battered body into the nearby armchair. "We wait. If Vince has your sister, she's probably being held at the Orchid. He has a shipment to pick up tonight; when he goes to the docks we'll head for the club. It's ten-thirty now...the drop off is at midnight." "How can you be so sure?" "In the movies the drop is always at midnight." I smiled, "These bootleggers aren't very original in their thinking." Scully nodded and tucked her legs underneath her. I didn't have the heart to tell her at that moment that she wouldn't be a part of this rescue. I thought I'd let her just take it easy for now. In the meantime, some questions were still tugging at the corner of my mind. "How did you know that Vince was expecting a shipment tonight?" I asked, sipping my coffee. "Simple. Melissa told me that every Wednesday Drake had a special party at the Orchid. She said that they always had gallons of liquor for these events. Vince called them 'special brews.' I figured that it would have to arrive tonight." "You mean you guessed?" I couldn't believe we had almost gotten killed for someone's hunch. "Well, all the evidence pointed to it." "Oh," I grumbled, sinking further into my seat. We sat in silence for a minute or two; Scully stared into her coffee cup while I watched her, wondering how a pretty, intelligent career woman- a doctor!- could so readily jump into danger. All this was going through my head when Scully once again reached for the photo on the coffee table. "You never did tell me who this was," she inquired with a raised eyebrow. "My sister," I replied, standing. "More coffee?" "Your sister?" Scully echoed, smiling at the picture. "What's her name?" "Her name was Samantha," I said, hoping she would drop the subject. "Oh. I'm sorry." Scully gently replaced the photo where she had found it. "What happened?" I felt distinctly uncomfortable discussing my sister, but there was something about Dana Scully, something that made me want to trust her. Maybe because we had both lost someone we loved. "She- she disappeared. When I was twelve." "Kidnapped?" "No...someone...something...took her away." Scully nodded as if she understood. At least, she didn't ask me to explain myself. So then I spilled it, the whole story. All my theories, all my beliefs; how Samantha's disappearance tore my family apart, the works. I finished exploring my innards with the final statement, "I know that she's out there. Or someone's out there who knows what happened to her." My ranting and raving had brought me up close to Scully, kneeling by her side- her eyes were now a deep blue. I could feel my breaths coming in hard gasps and my head pounded more than ever. But she didn't back away from me. Or say she didn't believe me. Only looked down and fiddled with the sash on the robe, twisting it with her fingers. "I understand how hard it can be, losing your sister." she said at last. "I can see how you'd want to become a detective, to find out the truth." When she looked up at me her blue-green eyes were gleaming, "I want to find the truth too. Just like you." I shook my head, feeling a lump forming in the back of my throat. "I'm still looking," I managed, "I know the truth is out there. And I want to believe..." I let my voice trail off. Dana stood, suddenly, and leaned closer to me. She placed her hand on my shoulder for a fleeting instant, then said, "More coffee?" I nodded dumbly and handed her my cup. As she moved into the kitchen I promised, "We'll find your sister." At that instant, I knew that I couldn't leave Scully behind. She turned and smiled at me gently. I felt a great stirring deep inside- it was hilarious, a hardened investigator like myself getting all turned inside-out by one woman's smile. The strange thing was, I really didn't mind it. At eleven thirty we hailed a taxi and headed for the Orchid Club. Rather than squeeze back into her fancy dress, Scully had gone to my neighbor's and borrowed a pair of trousers that would fit her, albeit with a belt cinching up the waist. Fred had taken one look at Dana, dressed in my blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, with my bathrobe around her waist, and winked at me. I told the joker to go back to bed and that I'd explain later. "Seeing you had one earlier this evening, I suppose you know how to handle one of these?" I held out my .38 special to Dana. "You've got pockets, you might as well use 'em." Scully picked up the weapon, getting the feel of it in her hand before sliding it into her pants pocket. "Thanks. I've always wanted one of these." "Don't mention it," I grumbled, re- checking my own piece twice before putting it into my shoulder holster. This girl was really beginning to grow on me. And what I needed to do was concentrate on the problems at hand. Believe me, it wasn't easy work. I had the taxi drop us off a block away from the club, on the street running past the back of it. All was quiet; Drake must've pulled all his men with him to pick up the shipment. Something in it must've been mighty important for him to do that. "Come on," I whispered, making my way carefully along the street to the Orchid's back entrance. We pressed ourselves against the chilly brick near the doorway, our breath making clouds in the night air. I reached into my pocket for the keys I had lifted from Blinky when he had walked passed me as Scully glanced around nervously. "Where'd you get those?" she whispered as I tried each key one by one. "Detective school," I replied as the lock gave way with a satisfying clink. Easing the door open, we could hear the tinny music filtering down from the front room. "Don't they ever go home?" Scully groused. "They're probably all asleep under the tables," I answered, closing the door gently behind us. "Looks like the kitchen is to the right..." "So we go left," Scully breathed, sliding noiselessly past me. I followed her down the narrow hallway and had to admit to myself- Scully seemed to have a knack for this sleuthing business. Her eyes gleamed green as we crept from shadow to shadow. We passed the curtains that hung behind the stage and a couple of empty dressing rooms, finally stopping at a door at the end of the hallway. I motioned for Scully to get behind me and listened at the door. Silence. Turning the knob, I found to my surprise that it was unlocked. I followed though, pushing my way through the doorway to find a room devoid of furniture. A dressing curtain partitioned off a corner of the room and a small bundle of clothes lay in the other. "Melissa!" Dana cried, moving towards the inert figure. Quickly, I shut the door behind us and then moved to Scully's side. Dana turned her face to mine, her features alive with fear. "She's barely breathing," she informed me. continued...

From netnews.upenn.edu!msunews!agate!uclink.berkeley.edu!madge Fri Feb  3 17:08:33 1995 

Path: netnews.upenn.edu!msunews!agate!uclink.berkeley.edu!madge 

From: madge@uclink.berkeley.edu (Peggy Mei-Ling Li) 

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative 

Subject: DANA (3/3) 

Date: 3 Feb 1995 07:18:03 GMT 

Organization: University of California, Berkeley 

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DANA - Part III  by Peggy Li, Feb. 2, 1995 

 

Together Scully and I held Melissa,  

brushing away her tangled mess of hair and  

clothes.  She was dressed in a long flowing  

caftan, a flowered print filled with reds and  

yellows.  Her red hair hung freely, but Dana  

found a butterfly hair-clip on the floor and  

gathered it up in that. 

"Opium,"  I said, peering into Melissa's  

dilated eyes, big as saucers.  Scully simply  

nodded, holding her sister's wrist to check  

her pulse. 

"Her breathing is shallow.  I don't know  

how we can bring her around." 

"Do what you can," I said, stepping to  

the door to check the hallway.  For the  

moment, everything looked quiet. 

"Stupid!"  Dana blurted, cradling her  

sister in her arms. "We should have called  

the police and had them pick Drake up at the  

docks." 

"No,"  I said, crouching by her side.   

"The police would've taken all night to sweep  

the docks, looking for him.  Drake, knowing  

that his game was up, would've come straight  

back and killed your sister."  A tear rolled  

out of the corner of Dana's eye and she wiped  

it away angrily.  "Look," I said, placing a  

hand on her arm, "Drake thinks we're at the  

bottom of the bay.  We can get her out of  

here, now..." 

Voices coming from the hallway made me  

cut off my speech.  Scully's eyes widened and  

she began struggling with her sister's dead  

weight. 

"Help me," she pleaded, trying to pull  

Melissa to her feet. 

"No."  I wrenched Melissa out of  

Scully's hands and placed her back on the  

floor where we found her.  "There's no way we  

can get past all of them!"  Scully opened her  

mouth to protest and I slapped mine over it,  

yanking her with me to concealment behind the  

curtain. 

No sooner had the curtains stopped  

swaying when the door opened and Vince Drake  

and two of his goons walked in. 

"Hurry up,"  Drake commanded, while  

through a seam in the curtain two eyes  

peered.  The henchman picked Melissa's  

unconscious body up like she was a rag doll  

and carried her out of the room.  With a  

sweep of his overcoat, Drake exited also,  

closing the door shut behind him. 

Scully was trembling with fury.  "We've  

got to go after them!" she hissed, her eyes  

gray flints.  She wasn't going to have any  

argument from me.  I opened the door a crack  

and peered down the hallway.  They had  

disappeared! 

We raced into the corridor, checking the  

dressing rooms and finding no one. 

"They couldn't have moved so quickly,"   

Scully said, checking around the stage  

curtains.  I nodded and she pointed to some  

seams at the base of the stage. 

"Trap door," I said, stating the  

obvious.  Dana pulled her weapon from her  

pocket. 

 

We had settled into a familiar pattern;   

I would stick my head around a turn, and if  

it didn't get shot off, Scully would jump  

into the corridor, weapon at the ready.   

After repeating this process a few times,  

following flickering electric lights wired  

along the ceiling of the narrow passageway,  

we finally came to a wider portion of the  

tunnel.  Steps led downwards, framed by an  

eerie red light. The sounds of chanting  

wafted to our ears and I could smell incense. 

Peering carefully down at the scene  

below, I figured we must be under the theater  

that stood across the street from the Orchid.   

A circular room had been carved out at the  

bottom of the steps.  The floor was piled  

high with crates of what I surmised was  

illegal booze.  Drake's men continued to  

bring in more crates from an entrance at the  

other end of the room;  spoils from their  

latest shipment. 

In the middle of the room sat an altar  

of sorts- a king's throne, evidently an old  

prop no longer regal enough for the stage.   

Melissa Scully sat in it, still in her drug- 

induced stupor.   

"Where's Drake?"  Scully whispered near  

my shoulder.  I held up my hand and saw that  

the last of the crates had been stacked and  

Drake's men were leaving.   

Drake himself emerged from behind a tall  

column of wooden boxes, dressed splendidly in  

long flowing robes.  He stood like a huge  

painting come to life and, god-like, flicked  

his wrist to command the room to empty.  The  

chanting continued, however;  I strained my  

neck to see where the other cult members were  

placed. 

"Look..."  Dana touched my elbow and we  

watched as Drake pulled a long fat bottle  

from the depths of one of his sleeves.  It  

was square and of good size;  it glowed amber  

in the dim red lights.  Something was  

immersed inside it, something fairly large. 

Scully was already on her way down the  

steps, pressing her body flat against the  

side of the passage.  I hurried, joining her  

behind a stack of crates that gave us a  

limited view of the throne and Melissa. 

"Okay, it's only him,"  Scully murmured,  

"you go around..." 

"Wait," I insisted, "let's see what he's  

going to do."  I had to see;  I had to know  

what was in that bottle. 

"Are you crazy?!"  Scully spat.  Before  

I could stop her, she had stepped out from  

behind our cover. 

"Drop it, Drake.  You step away from  

her."  Drake took one look at Dana and the  

gun she held steadily in her hand, and wisely  

froze in his tracks.  I moved swiftly from my  

position and scooped up the bottle, tucking  

it under my jacket.  Then I scooped up  

Melissa, who groaned softly. 

"What do you think you were doing with  

her?"  I asked as the woman snuggled up to my  

shoulder. 

"Nothing, absolutely nothing.  Just  

having a little party, is all."  Drake's  

black eyes burnt darkly, "You better give  

back that bottle." 

"You've got plenty around," I replied,  

gesturing to the surrounding crates.  Scully  

and I began moving towards the exit that led  

back to the club.  I heard a crash behind me  

and turned to see Scully knocking over a  

phonograph- the chanting ceased. 

"Who are you?"  I asked, genuinely  

curious. 

A broad smile spread across Drake's  

face.  "Don't you know, gumshoe?  I'm the  

taker of little girls."  Drake broke down  

into deep rolls of laughter and I felt my  

features become stiff and still.  My hand  

went for my gun...and then Scully was at my  

elbow, shaking her head. 

"Let's go," she said simply, glancing  

from me to Drake, who had collapsed onto the  

chair, still quivering with laughter. 

"Yeah,"  I replied, using both hands to  

get a firmer grip on Melissa.   

 

We emerged from the trapdoor, Scully  

helping me lift Melissa through the narrow  

opening when the whole building trembled.  A  

blast of hot air threw me off my feet and I  

landed, hard, against the wall opposite. 

"My god,"  Scully said, supporting her  

sister as best she could, "I think he's set  

fire to the club." 

I didn't like the sound of that.  I  

picked up Melissa like a sack of potatoes and  

we jumped through the curtains and onto the  

Orchid club's stage. All eyes turned  

towards us;  most of them were Drake's men. 

"FIRE!" I bellowed at the top of my  

lungs.  Thus began the frenzied dash to the  

exits.  No one molested Scully and myself,  

and after getting poked and jabbed and  

pushed, we finally made our way onto the  

street.  Already the theater across the  

street was up in flames.  In the distance,  

the wail of sirens could be heard. 

"Here, bring her over here,"  Scully  

directed, and I deposited my load onto a bus  

stop bench.  I let Dana tend to her sister as  

I grabbed at the nearest arriving fireman. 

"I have a woman who needs medical  

attention," I informed him, and he nodded and  

pointed to more oncoming vehicles.  I touched  

Scully's shoulder and asked, 

"How is she?" 

Scully wiped the sweat from her eyes and  

smiled.  "She'll be all right.  It'll take a  

few days for the drugs to completely leave  

her system."  Wearily, I parked my behind on  

the bench beside Scully and took my first  

good look at Melissa. 

She wore that wild get-up, her eyes were  

glassy from the dope, and from her ears hung  

dangley beaded earrings.  I looked from  

Melissa to Dana and concluded that they were  

nothing alike. 

"What?"  Dana asked, feeling my eyes  

upon her. 

"I think it's time we informed the  

proper authorities," I replied after a beat. 

"I am the proper authorities," she  

stated simply, pushing the hair out of her  

green eyes. 

"Excuse me?"  I said, puzzled.  Just  

then, Police Chief Simmons stepped up to us,  

another man in a dark suit and tie at his  

elbow.  The suited man spoke first. 

"Agent Scully?  I thought I ordered you  

off this case!" 

Scully got to her feet, her spine  

straight.  "Yes sir, you did.  But you knew  

this was personal..." 

"I know, agent," the man said, coldly.   

"We had discussed your options," he turned  

his gaze upon me for a moment, "and I forbade  

you to do this." 

Ambulance attendants swept around our  

little gathering and scooped Melissa onto  

their stretcher.  Scully squeezed her  

sister's hand as she was carried by, and then  

turned again to her superior.  "I had too,  

sir."  Her eyes were steely, never wavering  

from the man's face.  His stance relented,  

just a fraction. 

"Will she be all right?"  he asked.   

Scully's shoulders lost their tenseness.   

"Yes, she'll be fine." 

Simmons cleared his throat and addressed  

the both of us.  "Now, about what happened  

here tonight..." 

"Save it, Simmons."  I put my hand on  

Scully's back, "I'll get back to you in the  

morning.  Right now I need a drink." 

Dana and I had taken a few strides away  

from the bench when a voice called after us: 

"Speaking of drinks...did either of you  

take anything from Drake?  Anything at all?" 

"No,"  Scully said truthfully, turning. 

"Sorry," I lied.  "Drake torched the  

place himself.  I guess his business will die  

with him."  The man in the suit nodded,  

biting his lower lip, but saying nothing.  I  

hailed a taxi and Scully and I stepped  

inside.  The air was filling with smoke as  

the fire trucks fought the three-alarm blaze-  

I was very happy leave that place. 

 

The first thing Scully did when we  

reached my office was pick up the telephone.   

She called her parents, informing them of  

Melissa's condition and promising them she'd  

meet them at the hospital.  I had moved  

around my desk and plopped into my chair, the  

bottle I still had in my jacket pocket  

banging against my ribs.  Scully placed the  

receiver back in the cradle and sat on my  

desk with a sigh. 

"So," I began, "care to fill me in?" 

Scully's lips puckered into a half- 

frown, half-smile, and she shook her head  

slowly. 

"You know, we could use a man like you,"  

she said finally. 

"Who's we?" 

"The FBI- Frapp Brothers  

Investigations." 

The Frapp brothers;  I had heard of  

them.  Their means of investigation were  

almost legendary- they commanded a vast  

underground network of informants and were  

rumored to have files on everything  

imaginable.  And I had a pretty good  

imagination. 

"Really?" was all I said. 

"Really,"  Dana leaned over and I  

noticed that her eyes had changed color yet  

again- this time they were a deep, fathomless  

blue.  I was transfixed.  Her face loomed  

closer to mine...  

Our lips met and that was a whole new  

sensory overload.  I'd never felt so alive in  

my life.  I could feel her smile underneath  

my mouth and that smile remained on her face  

when we parted. 

"Maybe," I murmured. 

"Beast," she said, fingering the  

nameplate that remained face-down where I had  

left it.  Her hand moved to turn it over and  

I didn't feel compelled this time to stop  

her.  "Fox Mulder," she whispered, rolling  

the name around in her mouth like she liked  

the taste of it.  "I want to thank you,  

Mul..." 

I pressed my mouth against hers, a quick  

kiss.  She laughed softly and stroked my  

hair. 

"Hey," she said, looking down at me,  

"what do you have in your pocket?" 

I remembered the bottle, and pulled it  

out, turning it into the light. 

"I remember," Dana said, "Drake had  

that.  I thought it was tequila..."  As we  

stared at the bottle, both of us knew it  

wasn't tequila.   

Floating inside the alcohol was a  

creature the size of a large fist- it was  

like a baby, except with slits for eyes.  I  

drew in a sharp breath and Scully looked at  

me, concerned. 

"Mulder...it looks like a fetus, but..."  

she took the bottle from my hand.  "Mulder,  

what is it?  Mulder?" 

 

"Mulder, wake up.  Mulder!" 

Special agent Fox Mulder waved his hands  

across his face.  "Wha?"  He was lying on his  

couch, the light of dawn streaming in through  

the blinds.  The television was on, as  

always, and the black and white movie that  

was playing was nearing the end.  Mulder  

focused on the crackling dialogue: 

 

"Sam, what is it?"  Humphrey Bogart  

turned, cradling the dark object in his hands  

and said in his famous drawl the last line of  

The Maltese Falcon,   

"It's the stuff...dreams are made of." 

 

"The stuff dreams are made of,"  Mulder  

murmured.  The television turned off with a  

snap, and Mulder looked up to see Dana Scully  

with the remote in her hand. 

"Hey, you called me out here at five in  

the morning and I find you asleep." 

He struggled to sit up, pushing the case  

files that blanketed him onto the coffee  

table.  "Oh!  Scully...I'm sorry.  I must  

have dozed off...I was dreaming." 

Dana folded her arms in annoyance but a  

smile was already finding its way to her  

lips.  "That's okay.  Come on, I'll buy you  

breakfast." 

"Great."  Mulder hauled himself off his  

couch, rubbing his eyes and stretching. 

"You know,"  Scully said, regarding him  

with a clinical eye, "you oughta stop  

watching so much late-night TV.  How can you  

sleep?" 

"Scully..."  Mulder began, taking her by  

the elbow, "you may be right." 

 

the end.